Heroscape I: War in Valhalla
by AvengerArch
Summary: After the discovery of the wellsprings, the Valkyrie generals have begun a war. Using the powers granted to them, they have drawn in warriors from every world and time. The outcome of the war is uncertain, but Valhalla will never be the same again.
1. Prologue

Prologue

The War Begins

**Icaria – Magma Field, Gen. 284 – Ice**

Mimring slowly scanned the barren rocks of his nesting cliff for any sign of prey. He was hungry, and all of the large animals had mysteriously left.

Mimring suspected this was because of the chance of an eruption. This made him nervous. Though he was a fire dragon, he was not a real lava dragon and therefore vulnerable to lava.

He wearily eyed Mt. Pherical, the source of the tremors Mimring felt at night. It was some distance away, so a minor eruption wouldn't reach him. But eruptions weren't always "minor".

Still, he couldn't abandon his chicks. They were not yet old enough to fly, and he couldn't carry all twelve at once. After the first trip with half the dragons, he would most likely return to find that another dragon had eaten the rest.

To make matters worse, this was an ice year, and more and more eggs were hatching into ice dragons. This had made the ice king, Nidhogg, especially cocky, and any fire dragons outside of the Magma Field would surely be destroyed without hesitation.

Immersed in his thoughts, Mimring hadn't noticed the green saurus until it was next to him, flicking its tongue out at him, inspecting him. Luckily fire dragons had the ability to cool their own blood temperature when standing still, so the saurus hadn't yet confirmed he was alive.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he swiveled his head. Then suddenly and without warning he released a jet of flames which would surely kill even the toughest saurus.

But when he looked up, he saw the green, lizard-like creature scuttling down the sheer incline of the cliff, then increasing its speed as it reached level ground. It sped across the black rock, carefully avoiding the pools of lava in its path.

As always, Mimring had made the mistake of underestimating the speed and reflexes of a saurus. Oh well. He loved a good chase.

In an instant his wings were out and he was in the air, quickly closing the gap between himself and the saurus.

When he was finally directly above it, he released another jet. This time, the saurus did not escape.

Circling down toward the corpse, Mimring could already imagine eating the meat. A decent sized saurus such as this one could feed him as well as all of his chicks.

But as soon as he touched the ground, he felt the tremors. Looking up, he realized he was at the base of Mt. Pherical.

Clutching the saurus in his claws, he spread his wings and struggled to achieve liftoff, but the saurus was weighing him down. Abandoning his dinner, he took off into the air, flying toward the safety of his cave.

He was close, so close, when the molten lava began to rain down around him.

He pushed on, but in his mind he knew there was no escape. He flapped his wings for what was surely the last time, and then there was a blue flash.

**Valhalla – Utgar's Stronghold, Year 8657, 16:82**

Mimring opened his eyes. He didn't know where he was, or why. All he knew was that he had passed out, and now he was here.

Slowly his memory returned to him, and that made him more confused.

_Is this the afterlife?_ He wondered.

Looking around, he realized he was in a small room, lit by torches lining the walls.

In a throne composed of obsidian and granite sat a red-skinned humanoid creature. The creature possessed wings, but the entire anatomy of them was different. They were not feathered, like he had heard some wings were. But they were much different than a dragon's wings, and obviously wouldn't glide well.

"Is this the afterlife?" He wondered again, this time out loud.

"Not exactly. You can see it as more of a second chance," Mimring heard a voice say. Then he collapsed once again into darkness.

**Valhalla – Utgar's Stronghold, Year 8657, 16:70**

Utgar watched as his minions hauled in a large, brown-red reptilian body.

"We brought the dragon," one of them announced, bowing as far as was possible while supporting the body.

"Fools! I want a LIVING warrior!" Utgar yelled. "A corpse cannot battle!"

The minion was now trembling, fearful of what Utgar might do to him. "Sir, you do not understand. He is not dead, simply unconscious. He will awaken shortly, I assure you."

"Very well." Utgar sighed. "My time will come soon enough.

After about ten minutes of waiting, the dragon raised its head and blinked a few times.

"Is this the afterlife?" This surprised Utgar. He had heard that dragons communicated using grunts, snorts, and roars, but this dragon spoke English fluently. Surely he had found an exceptional creature!

"You can see it as more of a second chance," Utgar replied. Then, without warning, the dragon's head crashed back down against the stone floor, and the dragon passed out once more.

Utgar smiled. The dragon spoke a real language! This would aid him greatly in persuading the creature to join him. Now all he had to do was wait.

**Valhalla – Utgar's Stronghold, Year 8657, 18:43**

The dragon stirred. Utgar's patience had paid off.

"Where am I?" The dragon asked, surveying Utgar and his surroundings.

"Not important. What is important is that you are here. A war is about to take place, and I want you to join my army."

"What's my incentive?" The dragon asked.

"Well, if you don't join me, I could easily return you to where you were before." This wasn't true, but the dragon didn't know that and it seemed to have the desired effect.

"Alright, I'll join," the dragon said reluctantly. "But first, tell me what happened to my chicks."

This surprised Utgar. It was the last thing he had expected to hear from a ruthless dragon.

"They're dead."

The dragon's eyes grew wide. "How?"

Utgar laughed. "It is almost three hundred generations since you were brought here."

"I was asleep that long?"

"No, you weren't. You were merely drawn through the fabrics of space and time. And don't ask how. I do not feel like explaining." The truth was, though he would never admit it, Utgar didn't fully understand the process himself. "Now, tell me, what is your name?"

"Mimring."

"Alright, Mimring. Are you prepared to battle?"

Mimring nodded. "Yes. But first, I would like an explanation of what is going on here."

"Very well. Aloria, give Mimring a briefing on the current situation."

A kyrie warrior stepped forward from the shadows. "Yes, Sire," she said, bowing.

"When you are ready, return. Than shall begin the battle of all time."


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Preparations

**Earth – Iwo Jima, ****February 19th, 1945**

Sergeant Drake Alexander ran across the beach, brandishing an M1 Carbine. He heard the other marines behind him as he led the assault. Seeing a large rock sticking out of the sand, he dashed behind it. He had already lost five men to Japanese snipers, and knew to proceed with caution.

Hearing a noise above him, he glanced up. A plane flew directly over the island, flying very low. Everything was going according to plan; in a few moments, the airborne elite would drop from the plane, and then-

He was startled by the sound of a gunshot nearby. He looked out from behind the rock to see a sniper pit – a small trench where a sniper would hide – a few feet in front of him. A gun was pointing straight up from it, clearly aimed at the plane. The shot wouldn't do anything, though. A simple sniper couldn't put a scratch on the plane.

He glanced up, just to make sure – and saw a blue flash envelop the plane. The next moment the plane was gone. But that was impossible. Unless...

Unless the Japanese had invented a new weapon.

Enraged, he charged the pit and jumped in, pulling the trigger. His shot missed the sniper, who turned around in surprise. Drake grabbed the sniper's gun, attempting to wrest it away from him. The sniper let go of the gun and drew a sword, slashing at Drake and landing a blow on his hand. Drake dropped his own gun, which would take too long to reload, and tackled the sniper. Taking another blow to his shoulder, he got his hands on the hilt of the sword and twisted it around, driving it through its owner's chest. The sniper collapsed, and Drake, bleeding and feeling faint, fell on top of him. He was losing consciousness, hardly able to breathe. He heard a noise, and saw an object falling toward him. A grenade.

It struck, and there was a blue flash.

**Valhalla – Fortress of the Archkyrie, Year 8657**

"He's breathing." Kelda passed her hand over the soldier's shoulder. Her fingers glowed green, and the wound slowly closed. The soldier groaned, then sat up, opening his eyes.

"Where... Am I?"

Kelda gasped. "You speak Valhallan?!"

Drake, recovering from his initial shock at seeing the silver-skinned, winged human, said, "You speak English?"

She seemed to be considering something, and Drake took the time to examine his surroundings. He was in a large stone room lined with beds, all of them empty except the one he was sitting on. Light poured in through windows high on the walls, and massive wooden double doors led out of the chamber. In front of him stood the silver human, and next to her was another winged human, but his skin was tan, like his own.

Not sure what to think, he repeated, "Where am I?"

"Valhalla," the tan one said.

"Where?"

"Come with me," he replied, beckoning. "I will explain."

Drake got up, finding he was perfectly healed, almost as if the war had never happened in the first place. But the memories were all too vivid.

"Firstly, I am Jandar," he said, leading Drake toward the door. "I brought you here for a certain reason..."

Drake could hardly believe most of the things Jandar told him, but after being drawn here and seeing the kyrie – the winged humans – for himself, he wasn't going to dismiss anything as impossible. After the explanation, Jandar had handed him over to Raelin – a female kyrie – who would escort him to his quarters, while Jandar attended to 'other' business.

Drake followed Raelin down a stone corridor, glancing out the windows as he walked. The landscape outside didn't look much different then Earth, except that there was more of it. No cities in sight, but instead a vast expanse of forest stretching as far as the eye could see. It all seemed so peaceful, so much so that it seemed nearly impossible the war Jandar had described was coming could actually happen. But Drake had experienced wars, and knew that out of the deepest peace could spring violent conflict. Hitler had taught him that.

That thought brought him back to World War Two, where the airborne elite, some of his closest and most trusted companions, had been killed-

Or had they? They had disappeared in a blue flash, just as he had before the grenade hit. What if... "Raelin?"

Without stopping, Raelin turned to look at him. "Yes?"

Drake was surprised by how cold the kyrie seemed. Her face was expressionless, her tone wasn't cold, but not welcoming, either. "My men," he began, choosing his words carefully, "they were in a plane, when they were consumed in a blue flash and disappeared. The same thing happened to me. Did Jandar, uh..." He wasn't sure exactly what word to use to describe being drawn here, so he trailed off, hoping Raelin would understand.

Raelin had absolutely no idea what a plane was, but she wasn't going to let Drake know that. "Yes," she replied, "Jandar _summoned_ them. They're waiting for you right now."

_Summon_. So that's what they called it. "They are?" Drake was relieved. "Where?"

"In your quarters." With that she turned back to face forward and walked a bit faster. Drake shrugged and did the same.

"They're right through here." Raelin opened a nondescript wooden door, on the other side of which was a small room, with a round table in the center of it. Around the table were seated four soldiers, wearing camouflage and engaged in some sort of card game. When he entered, one of them noticed him.

"Drake!" he shouted, jumping up. "We thought you were dead!" He stopped, considering. "Well, not really, actually. Jandar told us you were alive, so..."

Drake walked over to the table and sat down in an empty chair, saying, "Well, I guess we're all alive, then."

Upon his arrival, a soldier had gathered up all the cards and was now absently shuffling them. "Well, we're alive for the moment."

There was a knock on the door, and Drake stood up, moving to open it. He had just finished a thorough inspection of the quarters, which were composed of several rooms, and he had been relaxing. He opened the door and saw Kelda standing outside. "Jandar wishes you to come to the audience chamber."

Drake was relieved that it was Kelda who had come, and not Raelin, for this kyrie seemed a lot nicer, and he didn't think he could bare another walk down the long maze of corridors with Raelin as his companion.

When Kelda, Drake, and the Airborne Elite arrived in the audience chamber, a massive stone room with a podium on one wall, they found a several kyrie assembled there, along with a small group of humans... Were they vikings? They sure seemed to be, and given what Jandar had told him about being able to draw warriors from any planet or era, he wouldn't be surprised if they were.

Kelda led Drake and his soldiers over to the others, where she began to talk with Raelin. Drake, wanting nothing to do with the unfriendly kyrie, walked over to the vikings, who were laughing at a joke one of them had made. They noticed Drake and turned to him, eying him suspiciously. One of them muttered something, and another said, "At least he's human. Or, I think he is." He looked Drake over. "Odd clothing, though." He extended his hand. "Hello, I'm Finn."

Drake shook it. "I'm Drake."

Finn pointed to the other vikings. "These are the Tarn Vikings, and this is my brother, Thorgrim. So, you're from the future, I take it?"

"Something like that. I was in a war, and about to be killed, when there was a blue flash, and then I was here."

"Similar thing happened here," said Thorgrim, "except we were ambushed by the Dreadguls, vicious vikings led by Ulrick, and we were saved and brought here."

"Well, Thorgrim and Finn were," another viking said. "Us four were the only survivors, and, unable to defend our castle, we fled into the woods of Korland. Ulrick hunted us down, and Jandar came back for us." He looked troubled, and Drake could tell he was hiding something, but just at that moment he heard Jandar's voice ring out above the clamor in the room.

"Warriors!" All eyes turned to him. "The time has come. Prepare yourselves, for battle will come soon." There were a few murmurs in the crowd. "Our scouts have reported an area that will be easily fortified, and we shall construct an outpost there. This will be our base for our search for wellsprings."

"This area is located within Upper Bleakwoode, the so-called Table of the Giants. We will depart at dawn tomorrow."

**Grut – Field of Skulls, Age of Iron**

Grimnak surveyed his surroundings warily. From atop his Tyrannosaurus, he could see quite a distance, but all he could see was the flat wasteland. All was calm. Except-

He could see something moving on the horizon, a small cluster of orcs. "Stand vigilant!" He shouted, and his small band of outlaws immediately formed into a battle formation. Grimnak could now make out the orcs, and could tell they were vastly outnumbered. They wouldn't have much of a chance, but they had no choice. They had to fight. He raised his spear-

And then there was a blue flash.

**Valhalla – Utgar's Stronghold, Year 8657**

Utgar looked over his growing army. Mimring stood out above the rest, followed closely by the Deathwalker 9000, a hulking soulborg from Alpha Prime. There was Ne-Gok-Sa and his Marro Warriors, and many other warriors, all just waiting for battle. He turned to Taelord. "The alliance has been secured?"

"Yes, sire."

"Excellent. Now, take some warriors – choose whoever you think is fit for the job – and head to Bleakwoode. Secure the wellspring at all costs."

Taelord nodded, turning to the warriors. There were many to choose from, and all had their strengths, but he already had a selection in mind.

He would not lose this battle.

**Earth – New York City, 2210 A. D.**

Agent Carr dropped through the open ceiling panel, tired after a long day of fighting. He rummaged through the pile on the table, finding what he was looking for: his last candy bar. Good-quality chocolate was hard to come by in these parts, and he would savor this one. With relish, he peeled open the wrapper-

Blue light enveloped him, and he never got to eat his candy bar.

**Valhalla – MICV (Master Intelligence Center of Vydar), Year 8657**

Before Vydar stood Agent Carr, along with his only three surviving Krav Maga agents. It wasn't much, but Utgar was depending on him. It would have to do.

"Are you ready?" He asked.

Carr nodded.

Vydar stretched his wings. "To Upper Bleakwoode!"

**Earth – Honshu, Japan, 1571 A. D.**

Izumi Takurou sat in the center of the stone platform, deep in meditation. These ruins were ancient, the place of his ancestors, and he hoped to gain some guidance. His brothers – Izumi Eiji and Izumi Sadami – had been lost in a blue flash, and he suspected fell magic.

Deep in meditation though he was, he still heard the ninja. Eyes closed, he used his hearing to pinpoint the ninja's location. Waiting until the last second, he pulled out his katanas just in time to block the ninja's slash. Having mastered the art of Riposte – the deadly art of counterstrike – as part of his samurai training, he was able to land a blow on the attacker, temporarily subduing him. His troubles were not yet over, however; he heard another one behind him. He spun around just in time to see three shurikens, all perfectly aimed, flying directly at him. And, just as it had his brothers, the blue light enveloped him.

**Valhalla – Palace of Einar, Year 8657**

The tiled floors were golden, red banners hang from the walls, and an elegant marble fountain rose out of the floor.

Einar watched as a servant kyrie raised the mallet above his head, bringing it down with all his force on the brass gong. A booming peal filled the room, and all his warriors stood to attention. "Gallus!" His voice rang out above the gong's dying echoes.

Marcus Deccimus Gallus walked ceremoniously toward him and knelt at the foot of the stairs leading up to the throne. Einar rose, and gestured for Marcus to stand. Handing him a map, Einar said, "I trust you will find your way?"

Marcus nodded, and a smile touched his lips. "I could find it without a map, as long as the stars were there to guide me."

Einar was confident he could. "I am counting on you, and Utgar is counting on me."

**Feylund – Azulena Sylla (Blue Moon Forest), 7th Age**

Syvarris ran, his heart racing as he tried to get away from the hulking troll behind him. Krug had been terrorizing the elves of Azulena for quite some time, and Syvarris and a band of warriors had decided to put an end to this monster.

They had failed, however; Syvarris was the only survivor of the assault, and it seemed his time was coming to an end. Leaping onto a bluff rising about four feet up, he turned to make his final stand. Letting loose arrow after arrow in rapid succession, he caught Krug first in the arm, then in the eye. Roaring, Krug swung his massive sword, bringing down a giant tree. Syvarris's vision was obscured by the dust thrown up by the fall, and he heard Krug laughing. The dust cleared just in time for Syvarris to see the sword sailing down through the air at him. As the sword neared him, he was encircled by a cloud of blue light. The sword disappeared, the troll disappeared, all of Feylund disappeared.

**Valhalla – Castle Ullar, Year 8657**

As Ullar paced the floor of the throne room, pondering the war, Saylind entered.

"There is a messenger for you, Ullar."

Ullar ceased his pacing and raised an eyebrow. "Who from?"

"Jandar."

"Jandar!" This must be important. He quickly followed Saylind to the entry chamber, where he saw a kyrie bearing the mark of Jandar on his armor.

"Jandar asks for your assistance in Upper Bleakwoode."

"Has a battle begun?"

"Not yet, but he suspects Utgar is on the move and may attack soon."

"Very well." Ullar turned to Saylind. "Send the warriors to aid Jandar."

Saylind nodded and turned to leave.

"And Saylind?" She turned back. "Tell the vipers there will be Marro."

Saylind smiled. "Yes, Ullar."

**Valhalla – Fortress of the Archkyrie, Year 8657**

Very early in the morning, Jandar summoned all his warriors to the audience chamber.

"Before you leave," he said to the assembled army, "I have gifts for you." He picked up a bag sitting at his feet. "First you, Drake." Out of the bag he pulled a sheathed sword. "Thorian's Katana."

Drake accepted the sword. Drawing it, his form instantly began to blur.

"This powerful katana will make you nearly impossible to hit from a distance. And this," he pulled out what seemed to be a sort of gun. "A grapple gun, forged by the kyrie of Bleakwoode. I trust you'll put it to good use." He turned now to Finn. "For you I have the Sword of Guether. It will lend you additional power in combat. And Thorgrim, I present you the Shield of Gerda, which will protect you and your companions. And finally, Raelin." He lifted out a great spear. "The Spear of Gerda. Much like Thorgrim's shield, but stronger."

He turned toward the doors. "Now, you must be off. I have sent an additional troop, the Omnicron Snipers, out already. You will find that they will aid you greatly. Hurry, though; we cannot afford for Utgar to get there first."

**Valhalla – Table of the Giants, Year of the Valkyrie 1**

Drake shivered in the frigid air. The sun was just rising above the distant mountains, illuminating the flat and rocky field. "I can see why they call it _Bleak_woode," he muttered to himself.

Then, in the distance, he spotted something else. Squinting against the glare of the sun, he could make out figures, a small army amassing on the horizon. A flag rose above them, a flag bearing the mark of Utgar.


End file.
